


A Touch of Paranoia

by Moonlitdark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bickering, Established Relationship, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Snark, Uninvited Guests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: He would’ve wondered why he was so hurt by Draco’s constant disregard of the problem, if Harry didn’t suspect that he might be slightly in love with the man. Dammit. He’d knew that was going to happen. When Draco first approached him - all long, lean limbs and swishing blond hair, wearing the same sneer which Harry had spent years denying that he liked – Harry had known that he was going to fall hard. Now he’d gone and got all attached and everyone else couldn’t keep their grubby fingers off Draco’s body long enough to allow Harry to enjoy the attachment.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 63





	A Touch of Paranoia

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before, but this version has a few edits.
> 
> This was originally written in response to a Livejournal prompt: “ _I can do something truly disgusting with my tongue_.” I have another story which contains the same line, so I thought it might seem a bit odd if I didn't mention why.

Harry frowned. He’d left Draco unattended for approximately five minutes while he visited the bathroom and Draco had amassed quite a rapt audience in his absence. Harry wondered how Draco managed to do that. People never flocked to Harry in quite that way. Maybe if he had dazzling blond hair and an arse to die for, he might get more attention as well. Not that he’d want it.

Watching one of Draco’s former fellow Slytherins edge a little too closely, Harry hung back in the doorway to Draco’s lounge, reluctant to make conversation with the uninvited guests. He’d wanted to spend a relaxing evening with Draco, but this was promising to destroy his plans. Again. Draco’s friends often appeared unannounced, and the arrival signalled the commencement of yet another few hours of groping. Harry would shortly be treated to an evening of pointless chatter with people who probably still didn’t like him all that much, while watching those same people manhandle his Malfoy. But Draco didn’t seem to mind. The continual, overly familiar touches and strokes from Draco's acquaintances were always received without comment. But Harry could feel an imminent comment brewing in his throat.

He’d tried not to let it bother him. He really had. Harry had repeatedly reasoned with himself that Draco was only interested in him. What he was witnessing were friendly, affectionate touches, not invitations to sex. But as the months passed and Harry’s affections grew stronger, so did his sense of uneasiness.

When Pansy’s hand disappeared behind Draco’s posterior, Harry decided that he was going to need to get back over there fairly sharpish.

“Harry!” beamed Pansy. “I haven’t seen you in _ages_!”

Yesterday was not _ages_ , in Harry's opinion. Realising that he was about to have a barrage of cheery conversation forced upon him, Harry returned his best smile and hoped that they would all shut up and shove off soon. Well, maybe not his _best_ smile. 

“Hey, _Harry_ ,” bellowed Goyle, despite the fact that Harry was now only three feet away. “What’ve you been up to?”

Goyle’s hand came to rest lightly on Draco’s shoulder. Which would be fine, if the fingers attached to that appendage were not stroking fondly against the material. 

“Not much.”

“It’s positively _lovely_ to see you again, Harry,” trilled Pansy. Oh, yes… lovely, Harry was sure.

These people had never been remotely interested in Harry’s activities before he’d started to date their leader. Their _former_ leader, Harry reminded himself. Draco had long since stepped back from that role to allow his friends to better make their own decisions about their adult lives. They just didn’t seem to have done a very good job of utilising their new-found independence. More often that he cared for, Harry’s arrival at Draco’s home would coincide with a Slytherin’s departure. Which didn’t overly bother Harry, after all they were still Draco’s friends and obviously important to him. But Pansy especially troubled him. Parkinson’s ever-watchful beady eyes and wandering limbs were only increasing Harry’s insecurity and suspiciousness, even adding a touch of paranoia to the mix.

What Draco didn’t appear to recognise, Harry saw with sharp, knowing eyes. Pansy sidled around with annoying regularity, bestowing both gossip and hands on Draco’s thighs with ease. Only Harry’s hands should be on those thighs, but Draco couldn’t seem to comprehend either Harry’s objections, or Pansy’s not-so-hidden agenda.

He would’ve wondered why he was so hurt by Draco’s constant disregard of the problem, if Harry didn’t suspect that he might be slightly in love with the man. Dammit. He’d knew that was going to happen. When Draco first approached him - all long, lean limbs and swishing blond hair, wearing the same sneer which Harry had spent years denying that he liked – Harry had known that he was going to fall hard. Now he’d gone and got all attached and everyone else couldn’t keep their grubby fingers off Draco’s body long enough to allow Harry to enjoy the attachment.

“I hadn't expected to see you tonight,” Harry replied, hoping that the extra people might go away soon and leave him to enjoy his evening with Draco.

“We just dropped by for a chat. Trade some gossip,” Pansy giggled. 

Draco chortled in response. From his vantage point, Harry could see that she actually had her fucking thumb caressing the crease of Draco’s trousers and for some unfathomable reason, Draco had either failed to notice or was enjoying it too much to care. The whole scenario was raising the temperature of Harry’s inner core to such an intense boiling point, it was a wonder that he didn’t combust.

Harry had previously attempted enough subtle expressions of concern about this behaviour to know that similar action would have no effect. Screw diplomacy. Harry took just a second to dismiss the voice of reason in his head before he asked, “Does Pansy actually have her hand on your arse, Draco?”

Draco blinked, clearly astonished at Harry’s lack of decorum, but at this moment, Harry couldn’t give a shit about manners. 

“She’s sampling the quality of the new trousers I purchased.”

That was a lame excuse if ever Harry had heard one. 

“Well, can you ask her to stop sampling your arse as well?”

Draco turned his head to the side and muttered, “Pansy,” while brushing the limb from his body. Turning back, Draco wore the expression which Harry hated the most. The not-quite-repentant smile which meant that Harry was about to be amiably tolerated. “Harry, you seem upset.”

Harry wasn’t in the mood to be tolerated. “Upset? One of these days I think that I’m going to come out of the bathroom and stumble on an orgy!”

The grey eyes blinked again, eyelids fluttering rapidly as the smile vanished. Pansy grinned widely, as if this exchange was the best entertainment she’d seen in a long time. Goyle merely gawped. 

“Have you been breathing the talcum powder in again?” asked Draco. “These are my friends.”

“They’re a bit too friendly.”

“Is this _jealousy_ , Potter? This insane little rant?”

“It’s not insane! It shouldn’t be too much to expect that I’d be the only person to grope you!”

Harry was reviewing his argument, thinking that it could've been better planned out, when Goyle whispered, “I think he likes you, Draco.” 

Draco merely flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes and shrugged. “Of course he likes me, he’s my boyfriend. And once I’ve figured out what he’s annoyed about, I might like him more myself.”

“I just _told_ you what I’m annoyed about!”

“But it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Fine,” Harry snarled in frustration, “let me try again. I’ve noticed that this sort of thing seems to happen a lot. And I _don’t_ like it.”

“Like what?”

“Are you deliberately being thick? ‘Cos you're usually brighter than this. Or do you _want_ them to paw you? And do… other stuff,” Harry added quietly.

“Yes, Potter – my deepest, darkest desire is to shag Pansy. If Greg would be amenable, then I’d love to have him too.”

The confirmation did not improve Harry's sense of security. “Oh, I see.”

“You really don’t understand sarcasm, do you?”

“I’m trying.”

Draco's exasperation showed in the gritting of his teeth as he explained again, “These. Are. My. _Friends_ , Harry.”

The explanation wasn't really placating Harry. “My friends don’t tend to grope me all that often.”

“That illustrates what poor excuses for friends you have. It's not as if Pansy's propositioning me.”

The slyly innocent grin on Pansy’s face indicated to the contrary, in Harry’s opinion.

“Just tell them to stop it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Potter. We’re not married. I still really don’t see what the problem is.”

“Fine. I’ll get Hermione to feel me up, then we’ll be even and there’ll be no problem.”

“Your solution amazes me in its maturity,” Draco scoffed.

“Don’t call me immature.”

“But you _are_ being immature! Jealous and petty and irrational and -”

“I have a question,” said Pansy suddenly from her vantage point behind Draco’s shoulder.

“What?” barked Harry, not interested in anything which she might utter, but grateful for the respite from the bickering. 

But the query wasn’t directed towards Harry. “Why does Harry want to be with you, Draco?”

That… was not the question which Harry was expecting. It didn’t seem to be the one Draco had anticipated either, judging by the baffled frown. “Excuse me?”

“I’m curious… what do you have to offer Harry that you wouldn’t offer me? Or that Harry couldn’t get elsewhere?”

Draco still appeared confused but affronted enough to maintain his haughty poise. That poise straightened severely as Draco glared down at his friend. “I’ll have you know that I can satisfy Harry like no other could possibly come close to achieving.”

Pansy seemed undeterred by the hostility. “How, exactly?”

Goyle’s gawking seemed to have morphed onto Draco’s face. “You want me to list my _attributes_?”

“That would be helpful, yes.”

“I’m sure that you couldn’t properly appreciate the benefit of the many attributes which I have to offer,” Draco sneered. “I can be the perfect gentleman, when appropriate. The ideal, considerate partner, putting Harry’s needs well before my own.” Harry was tempted to interrupt at that point, but curiosity maintained his silence. “I can offer comfort and tenderness and witty, subtle humour the like of which he would never experience elsewhere. My skills in the bedroom are surpassed by none. And I can do something truly disgusting with my tongue.”

“Oh, eww,” cringed Goyle.

“Those seem reasonably good,” beamed Pansy. 

“What disgusting thing?” asked Harry.

“What do you mean, ‘ _reasonably_ good’?” spluttered Draco.

“Well, if Harry isn’t happy, then I think that now would be an appropriate time for you to utilise some of those attributes.”

“Why?”

The touch which Pansy bestowed upon Draco wasn’t as gentle as before. “To make him _happy_ , Draco. But if you're not up to the challenge, then I might give it a go myself.”

“You really are a little trollop, aren’t you Pansy?”

“I’m an opportunist.”

Faintly frightened though he was at the prospect of Pansy seizing any opportunity with either of them, Harry was intrigued by the strange turn of events. 

“Pansy, honey,” Draco said, eyes glittering with what Harry hoped was understanding. “I think that you should go home now. Take Greg with you. See you in a few days.”

Pansy trotted quietly out the door with Goyle in tow, perhaps to seek a more prosperous opportunity there.

“That was… bizarre,” muttered Harry, once they were alone in the lounge.

“Any more bizarre than you emerging from the toilet like a battering ram and accusing me of participating in an orgy?” smirked Draco. “Pansy just has my best interests at heart. And apparently yours as well, if that was any indication.”

“Is that what that indicated? ‘Cos I wasn’t sure. And I didn't exactly accuse you of actually _having_ the orgy... just that you might.”

“If I do decide to host one, I'll be sure to invite you. But anyway, my friends have apparently embraced you into the fold.”

“I’d rather that they didn’t embrace me at all.”

Harry heard a sigh from Draco, saw possible wariness. “Do you really have a problem with physical contact?”

“No. Not with you. Just… with you and the rest of them.”

“But I never touch them the way that I touch you.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t see the difference.”

“There’s no noticeable difference between what I do with my friends and what I do with you?” 

The simplicity of that summary made Harry begin to feel slightly embarrassed by his outburst. “Well, yes… but -”

“Come here,” Draco whispered, pulling Harry into a hug. Harry let himself be wrapped in the embrace. “This is only for you,” murmured Draco, his warm palm tilting Harry's face upwards. The deepening of their kiss temporarily ceased all speech, but when Draco's lips retreated, he said with a smile, “No-one else gets that.” 

“Glad to hear it.” 

“I'm still not sure that I understand why you got so upset.” 

Harry's embarrassment was displayed by a blush. “I suppose... like Goyle said, I might... like you. Want you for myself.” 

“Don't you already have me all to yourself?” 

“Sometimes I'm not sure.”

“I'll need to put more effort into showing you that.” 

Just before their lips could meet again, Harry remembered a query he'd had from earlier. “What _is_ the disgusting thing you can do with your tongue?”

Draco didn't pull back to answer, instead he slid the tip of his tongue briefly against Harry's bottom lip and spoke into Harry's open mouth, “I thought that I do many, many disgusting things with this muscle, Potter.”

“You call that stuff disgusting?”

“I call it mind-boggling.”

Harry bit the same lower lip in bashful contemplation. “Hmm, maybe I missed that bit.”

The bashfulness clearly wasn't fooling Draco. “Shut up, or I’m going after Pansy to see if she'll make me an offer.”

“I think that you might need to demonstrate the disgusting bit again.”

“Well, if you missed it the first time, then evidently I do.”

“Are you going to show me then?” Harry asked, curiosity growing.

“Oh, yes.”

Harry nudged his lips closer, hopeful for a demonstration, but Draco's face moved away, eyes shining with mischief. 

“Not in your mouth, Harry.”


End file.
